todays bird
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
will byers stan first human second
d e v o n
noise dept.
Peter Solarz
Cosimo Galluzzi
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
tannertan36
No title available
tumblr dot com
cherry valley forever
styofa doing anything
Game of Thrones Daily
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Claire Keane
PR's Tumblrdome
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
dirt enthusiast
Origami Around
seen from South Africa
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Sweden
@slowlylossingit
“Being suicidal doesn’t mean that I’m going to kill myself. Being suicidal is having this inexplainable ache while you’re living. It’s waiting for your life to end, and wishing that you didn’t have to carry on. Having this ache, and incapability to feel happy living, doesn’t mean that I am going to kill myself; it just means that I wouldn’t mind dying.”
— (via lost-alone-broken)
“I wouldn’t call this a life anymore. I just exist and wait for the end.”
—
March 17, 2026
my grandmother’s lips,
thickly painted rouge,
rose petals in their curling wilt,
upon a youthful cheek
her hair, her heavy blush
southern dusk
through snowy tendrils
hung from weeping willows
a black/red/blue
swallowtail alighting
on a guardrail, refuge
from august sun, god,
how colorful it seemed
how real
she snuck cigarettes,
slims tight between
paper fingers
and nail polish, also
a variation of pink
the tired flutterings
like a drip of night sky
bearing mars and mercury
naked in their shade, moved
against the breeze which
coiled in the truck bay
an evening stupor
the rattlesnake sound
of pill bottles exhumed
from a purse, a lovely
pattern, the same as her
necklace, a monarch,
i think
when it left,
a leaf defiant of
the updraft, a drunken
wanderer, the
day was lessened
by its absence
in a quiet ache i
never thought
to name
grief, i saw
in tear-shined faces
and unsurprise
the woeful inevitable
death, like fingers digging
through unclaimed jewelry
and they got
your shade wrong
a painted lady
perhaps, i never
thought to check
but really these things
you would have said
with that sly grin
these things don’t matter
containment BREACHED! read my poetry
Sometimes, I think you get the worst of me. The much-loved loose forest-green sweatpants, the long bra-less days, hair knotted and uncivilized, a shadowed brow where the devilish thoughts do their hoofed dance on the brain.
— Ada Limón, "Love Poem with Apologies for My Appearance"
just watering the plants - Alexander Anthony Mar
horatio’s epilogue
"dead doesn't mean absent...", tathev simonyan
— isa b. heavy-hearted
We Have Not Long To Love, Tennessee Williams
"dead doesn't mean absent...", tathev simonyan
Sometimes, I think you get the worst of me. The much-loved loose forest-green sweatpants, the long bra-less days, hair knotted and uncivilized, a shadowed brow where the devilish thoughts do their hoofed dance on the brain.
— Ada Limón, "Love Poem with Apologies for My Appearance"
“We get to decide what we’ll give to the world and what we’ll take from it. Love big; pack light.”
— Bob Goff
If someone told me this, I’d prob cry
A person raised in love and another raised in survival, will never see the world the same way.
—M00wd
“I hope you find someone who knows how to love you when you are sad.”
— Nikita Gill
And if i'm meant to be alone, please take away my desire to be loved.
k.b. // unknown
